Protect his Soul
by A Beautiful Breakdown
Summary: A sequel to my Desperate Love, What does Roy Mustang hate more then rain? Waiting for paper work which should have been delivered hours ago. How will the young Colonel react when his youngest subordinate shows up drenched and quite out of sorts?
1. it hurts to think you cared

Protect the his Soul

A sequel to my Desperate Love… Story… rated T for language, if I choose to continue the rating WILL go up… just because of what I may or may not have in mind...

The heavy chime of the grandfather clock had always been a sound which brought resounding joy to the heart of Colonel Mustang. Its heavy deep echoing, the quiet tick of a peaceful pendulum and the knowledge that one more hour had slipped passed bringing the day closer to its end. Yes, that clock had been his sanity through the toughest of days, it's quiet existence, the slow pacing tick which always seemed to calm Roy down even in the most drastic of situations.

Today however, its melancholy chime sounding throughout the seemingly empty room was nothing more then a thorn in the Colonels side. A reminder of how little there was to do while waiting around for a report from his youngest subordinate. He could hear voices beyond the door, a choir of joyous chatter as those who worked beneath him discussed the menial things in life. Oh if only he could be so care free again, so blissfully ignorant of the paperwork and dedication that came with his position of power. It was the one thing that might deter him from his path to Furher.

"What I wouldn't give to be a private again just for a day..." Roy muttered to himself, his elbows pressed against a blank desk, gloved fingers wound through his hair.

A clap of thunder followed by the soft clunk from somewhere within the clock roused Mustang from his pathetic stupor. At least he was inside on a day like today, not out of the rain and mud. _Could be worse._ He added thoughtfully, his gaze set against the cloudy sky beyond the dampened window pane. _I could be stationed on border control... _

The thought sent a shudder through every inch of his being. He hated the small unimportant and seemingly dangerous missions he had to send his men on. He hated the rain and the crisp smell it left upon the earth, or how it made him feel sticky and dirty after he'd been outside for too long. Most of all he hated the memories it dredged up, the pain stricken cries for help, the poor lost souls begging for mercy beneath the hands of their oppressor. His hands...

With a violent surge of energy, Colonel Mustang thrust himself away from his desk, his gloved hands groping the wooden furniture in a act of desperation, a sort of calm your nerves kind of plea. _Damnit. _He hated being this weak.

A loud clap of thunder and the sky lit up, the greying mass of clouds overhead turned white beneath the loud burst of lightening bouncing from cloud to cloud. He knew it had hit land at some point, maybe somewhere far off towards the eastern corner of Central. There would be calls put in, soldiers, good men sent to assess the damage and work ground control. It was in their line of duty after all, saving lives... wasn't it?

Roy watched quietly, hands tucked behind his back, as his footsteps brought him towards the large bay windows which gave him a clear view of Central. He watched as small fuzzy blotches of human beings scurried into the safety of their homes out of the torrential down poor. Maybe he'd sleep in his office tonight?

Eyes cast to the couch a moment; it couldn't be that uncomfortable could it?

Lazy thoughts like these entered into his mind only to duck away beneath other equally important ideas and images which filtered through. And he called himself an adult! He felt more like some misplaced teenager put beneath the worst grounding of his life. He could leave if he wanted to, but then Full Metal would only bitch and call him lazy. He sighed as the smaller officers voice entered into his mind, ranting at a velocity and energy level he knew from no other. _'You lazy son of a bitch Colonel, demanding a report only to go home mid way through your _**busy** _work day...'_ The kid acted as if he knew everything... maybe he did, but he was still just a child, and Mustangs subordinate...

Besides it was raining out, wet and icky, a weather system which Roy detested. That was why he hadn't left for home yet. He wasn't really scared of the pint sized alchemist.. Though would it be fear, or respect that made him stay... either was a frightening thought!

Shaking all images of the diminutive annoyance from his mind, Roy returned to his idle staring. His eyes focussed and unfocused as he tried to pick out colors beneath the dismal greys which littered the streets. _Better greys and gut wrenching reds and the fiery blaze of death._ He told himself idly. His body had gone rigid without a second thought on the matter. Damn that man had a knack for throwing that which he couldn't change back into his own face. He didn't need Riza to punish him; he did it well enough on his own.

Another hollow tick from the clock, followed by an unimaginably deep clunk and a chime which rang through to the darkest areas of the office. Roy's eyes met the old grandfather face on, his long slender, intricate whiskers splayed in an odd pattern. "Six-o-clock..." The Colonel drawled quietly, that was one hour after he was suppose to be dismissed, three later then his appointment with Full Metal was suppose to run. God damnit that child was insufferable.

Why then was the good Colonel waiting around? Why was he not drowning his sorrows within a glass of brandy and the company of a good woman, like so many other rainy days?

"That little..." the good man began to mutter, cut off by the mellow rapping of knuckles upon his door.

The Flame Alchemist turned, body squared with the wooden piece, brow quirked as he found his words once more, "Enter!"

The command had been headed but none to quickly. The heavy bulk of the door slid open, a gloved hand placed quietly upon the brass knob, but still no more sign of a soldier.

"Enter..." Roy commanded now, less demand, more patience, his shoulders slackening, hands meandering into the depths of his military pressed pants. "Come on soldier, haven't got all day you know..."

There came a sign just then, the wooden door pushed further in a last attempt to shrug off any guilt or pain that might have mingled within the body of the young subordinate. The air around him was ripe with rain, tainted with the metallic taste of well, metal and a strange alchemic sweetness known only to accompany.. "In Full Metal, and shut the door behind you..." his words came out more agitated then he may have meant them to, turning upon his heel to take a seat behind the wooden desk he had found himself before only minutes before.

The young boy was compliant, pushing the heavy object shut, watching as the faces of the other ranking officers disappeared behind the wall. He had to gather his thoughts, waiting for that booming voice to strike out against the air, belittle and berate him, make him feel like the idiot he so rightly felt like.

"You're soaked Full Metal..." the Colonel observed, pushing back from his desk a moment.

"Yeah..." came the only reply as Edwards soggy footsteps carried him to Mustangs desk, a strange crumpled envelop clutched within his finger tips, "Sorry bout this... I... well... I don't really have an excuse..." the young boy stammered, stumbling over his own words, lost at all attempts to hide his unbridled sorrow.

Roy hadn't the chance to even think of a tirade, he was lost upon the young Alchemists appearance, his red coat so heavy and dark it seemed to drag the poor boys shoulders to the floor. His golden locks matted and pressed against his forehead hiding his eyes from the Colonels view. He looked defeated, worn down, utterly lost beneath the severity of the weather... but that couldn't be it. Rain had never stopped Edward Elric from throwing out words like bastard and asshole in a torrent of childish screams before, so why now?

"I'm sure I'll survive an extra hour or two at work Full Metal..." It was a lie, they both knew how much of a clock watcher Roy could be, how painful it was for him to stay even ten minutes passed the hour.

They both shared a smile though, the faintest rise to Ed's cheeks noted before they fell quickly, tangled beneath his inner turmoil.

"Do I need to yell at you or something Full Metal, report!"

"Right..." came the down trodden response, the wet envelop dropped onto the desk with one swing of the young mans arm.

Roy looked at it a moment before turning his attention back to the younger man, he just stood there, waiting, like some complacent puppy, waiting to be thwomped on the nose for peeing on the carpet.

The report became less and less a priority as Roy began to further survey his young ward. The water dripping off his coat left damp markings upon the carpet, the way his body shifted slightly, favouring his automail leg, or how his real hand clutched the material of his coat tight and desperate. As much as Roy liked to pretend, it was hard to remember that the young man before him was no more then a boy robbed of his innocence. Edward Elric was just a child by all rights, a teenager with needs Roy Mustang had all but forgotten about.

Had war made him hard? Or was he just oblivious to the desperate need Edward so quaintly screamed. ?

"Did you walk here Full Metal?"

The answer came almost right away, "from the train station, yes sir..."

"But I sent an escort down there for you; Falman is probably still down there waiting for you to get off that train..."

"Sorry Sir..."

_Did he just? _A spark of confusion flooded the Colonels exotic black eyes, "what's this Full Metal, no _minor_ outburst," Maybe a stab at the boy's height might jostle his cage...

But nothing, Edwards shoulders shrugged gaze set upon the floor, "Sorry sir, I'll try harder next time... _bastard_."

But the Bastard was more of an after thought then an insult, as if he'd thrown in it there to appease the Colonels desire for a fight. What a jerk what an idiot!, couldn't Edward respond with anything other then a pathetic wave of submission.

The Colonel begrudgingly picked up the small packet, withdrawing a lengthy report scrawled out in Ed's oddly artistic penmen ship. His eyes seemed to skim over the delicate swooping letters, no so much reading the booklet as Roy thumbed through the pages blindly, but admiring the detail and time Edward put into such work of art. There was effort put behind this, dedication and... emotion?

A brow quirked as Roy examined the report closely, some of the pages were spotted with watermarks, some of the words bleeding together to make one large misconstrued mess. Had Edward been crying when he wrote this?

Roy dropped the pages immediately, his body slipping away from his desk in one quick stride. "What's going on Full Metal..." his voice demanded answers, yet lie laced beneath a shroud of concern and delicate devotion.

When no answer followed, Roy grasped the boy by his shoulders, shaking the child a moment before seizing the young mans chin. He forced the hair from Edwards's eyes, soft clothed fingertips traipsing over the delicate skin of Edwards's forehead dampening the ignition cloth. "Edward..." the Colonel began, his words cut off at the back of his throat, lost beneath the chaos and fear surging throughout the young mans eyes. Ed looked so broken, so fragile as he struggled to wrench himself away from Mustangs grasp.

Roy felt his own body weaken, those eyes so filled with hatred and fear, eyes blaming him for something he wasn't sure he had even done. They were liquid fire burning beneath the depths of a shattered soul. Pure amber pooling with sadness and question; as if to plead with the Colonel never to send him out there again. They demanded answers that required no words, they needed a mother, a father, a brother, anything but a bastard Colonel with no experience with children, only breaking women's hearts and surviving on the battlefield.

"Happy now, Bastard Colonel Asshole..." Ed bit bitterly, licking at his chapped lips as he feel back a few sparse feet, "Happy?"

Ed's words as, lined with tears as the young mans eyes, desperate for some sort of understanding from his commanding officer. Understanding, Roy wasn't sure he was able to grant, "I... but... no..."

"I can recite the report for you if you want, tell you word for word what I wrote there... it'd make your life easier too eh, lazy asshole..." Edward muttered.

No, Roy didn't want that...

"Just..." then Ed stopped, his body had gone rigid, his eyes wrought with fear and anguish, betrayed in some form of the word as he watched the Flame Alchemist struggle to understand. "Just tell me Mustang... did you know what it was... where you were sending me?"

There hadn't even been ample time to respond before Edward turned on his heel and stormed towards the door. "I thought you were going to _recite_ your report for me Full Metal..." was the only thing Roy had been able to manage, the only sardonic reply to meander over his pursed lips.

"Fuck you Roy Mustang, read it yourself, I'm going home..." it wasn't bitter hatred or anger which drove Edward to open the door, it was pain, remorse. It was heavy set feeling as if someone had stood on his chest and stomped with all their might. He was broken, and left to lick his own gaping wounds. Left to think about that pitiable creature in his half dead state, struggling for control of its own body. It was an image that would sing him to sleep, lulling him into a waking nightmare. So he'd attempted the forbidden, hadn't he paid enough for it already?

"Wait Ed!" But it was too late, the blonde fury closed the door behind him storming off down the hallway, "It wasn't on my orders..." Mustang muttered helplessly, wondering now what had happened to his young alchemist to throw him into such a state of despair.

Without haste Roy lurched over his desk groping the report file, desperate to find meaning within its delicate words. Page after page of endless scrawl before few words jumped out and slapped him in the face. _Human Transmutation, Two souls bound to one body. _Might as well just spit in the boys face... _nothing I could do... beyond my help..._

_Oh god... Edward..._

It's another one of those hit or miss situations!  
Do I continue? Do I not?  
Ladies and Gents you need to let me know. I may post anyway depending on how creative I feel but feed back makes the heart warm and the writer more willing to produce another!

Read and Review please!!!


	2. blame, a reason to protect

Now Roy was pissed. Some higher up asshole was playing with his men without so much as a please or a thank you. Some ignorant bitch was playing god. Some heartless bastard had sent Edward Elric, _his_, Alchemist, out into the field without so much as consulting him first?

Roy snapped his fingers furiously, watching as the alchemic presence within the air died off beneath his fingertips. He was lucky the boy had been so wet, lucky he had taken it upon himself to render his gloves useless in a moment of pure rage.

He wanted to break things, to burn Headquarters to the ground just to get to the bottom of this horrendous offence. Someone was going to pay for this, someone was going to pay for meddling with his officers.

It was at that moment a knock fell upon his door, the large, heavy oak presence shifting to make way for a pretty pair of cinnamon eyes and blonde hair. "Everything ok Sir?" came the wary voice of one Riza Hawkeye. Her obvious understanding of the situation almost eerie in its perfection; voice laced with a cautious caring.

Roy's dark eyes, black marbles of pure range and angst turned upon the woman as he threw his prized alchemy gloves to the floor in a huff of annoyance. "I want to know who was responsible for sending Edward Elric out into the field..." Roy ordered venomously, his feet carrying him back to his desk in few quick steps.

"Sir?" Hawkeye questioned.

The Colonel merely threw himself into his seat, the chair allowed to roll a few inches before the man deemed himself calm enough to respond. "The names Hawkeye, the names!" he demanded furiously, fists colliding with the wooden surface of his desk. A small cup containing various pens and other stationary supplies tumbled over as Roy piteously fumbled with what few shard of sanity he had left.

Hawkeye merely blinked a few moments, her weight shifting to the other foot as she moved to close the door behind her, allowing a moment of privacy to over take them. "Permission to speak freely sir..." she paced gently, watching Mustang as he allowed an exadurate huff to escape him.

This she merely took as a yes, as he never silenced her before, "Whoever ordered Edward on that mission had to have been an officer of greater or equal rank to you... Sir..."

"Then I hope it's the latter, I need to hurt someone..."

"I shall send in Havoc if that's the case sir, I cannot let you squander your title over some silly mission... sir..."

Roy went wide eye, drawing Edwards report off his desk. "This... lieutenant is unacceptable..." he bellowed, tossing the document onto the floor inches from her feet. The paper slid across the floor in a quiet hiss, covering ground with out so much as mixing up the pages. "This, this is..." he fell at a loss for words, watching as Riza loyally plucked the papers off the floor, tapping them into perfect alignment, "he's just a boy Riza..."

A smile fluttered onto the woman's professional persona. She shifted and then moved to place the folder back against Mustangs desk. "We tend to forget that sometimes... don't we..."

"Even me..." Roy didn't want to admit it, maybe he was just angry for all the times he had sent Edward off on those dangerous mission, or those which lead him no where. Maybe he was angry because he had lost control over the situation and didn't realize the pain and hurt that could befall the parentless child. Maybe he just cared too much.

"You care for those boys sir, more then anyone, more then they realize, I understand you're angry, but he _is_ going to fall down sometimes, and you can't always pick him back up again. He has to do it on his own..."

Now what Roy wanted to do was scream. He wanted to grasp a hold of his hair and scream bloody murder until his throat was dry and his vocal chords fell off. Instead he treated his officer to a bitter smile, fingers rolling against the paper stack placed in front of him. He wanted to burn the report, but he needed it less they send Edward out again. No, he couldn't have that happen. He wouldn't allow that to happen again, not like this.

"Do you have children Hawkeye?" he asked boldly, though knew the answer off the bat.

"No sir, only a niece and two nephews, my experience, as you know, is limited..."

A nod, a quiet misplaced smile, "Me either, no extended family yet either, just an older sister..." he sounded off randomly, "but those boys, Edward in particular, he acts so tough..."

"We all want to protect him sir..." Riza cut in.

"It's more then that lieutenant, far more," was he crazy for trying to explain these mixed up, upside down, twisted through a cork hole feelings wracking his insides mercilessly? "I'm responsible to him... being here..." but it was too hard to explain. The burning within his chest as he imagined Edward screaming and crying as he was forced to take the life of some pitiful transmutated soul. He'd probably tried to separate them, tried to save their lives and failed miserably. Roy had been the one to suggest coming to the State. He had been the one encouraging the boy to take his state alchemists test, the reason he ran all over the world trying to find some stone Roy knew would only hurt him in the end. It was his fault and he was paying for it in the heavy ache, the way his stomach lurched whenever the young man entered a room. The undeniable pain which surged through his every waking thought process when the young man frowned. He didn't want Edward to know pain, he wanted to help, gaining a few ranks in the process, maybe do a good thing or two... now this...

Could Hawkeye even understand?

"All he wants is to get his brothers body back; he hardly cares what happens to his own body in the process so long as Al's whole again..."

"Can you blame him sir?" Hawkeye pondered aloud.

"Maybe not, he just doesn't seem to realise that the reckless way he barrels through life is only going to hurt people, hurt Al... in the end." Roy's attention focused on the rain drops slowly slipping down the window pain. He hid his deep invested emotions from the observant Hawkeye and played it all off on the protective commanding officer card. He knew in the end that she knew, maybe not the full course of his feelings, but she was wise on to the emotional investment he had staked into the boys.

Hawkeye sighed softly, crossing her arms impatiently against her chest. There was no winning with Roy Mustang; he was as pigheaded as Edward when he wanted to be. "But Sir," she pressed further, "It's his decision..."

"And the rest of us will be left to lie within the wake of a life forfeited before it even had a chance to get off the ground. He hasn't lived lieutenant; I want him to have a chance..."

"Forgive me sir, but it's not your place..." The brazen soldier burst through the Colonels selfish tirade, "Edward may not be a full fledged adult yet but I would place him against you any day sir. You two are far too alike for your own safety, I suggest you let things rest and apologise to Full Metal. You're right about a few things, you had a hand in getting him this far..." her voice softening a few notes, "he needs you, Roy..."

A smug smile tugged at the corners of Roy Mustangs lips. She was right of course, Riza Hawkeye and her never faltering words of wisdom. But where had Full Metal run off to in this weather?

A/N

Thank you to all those who read and reviewed!!  
your encouragement was, is and always will be appreciated!  
This chapter is a little short, more with Ed next!!!


	3. confusion, a desperate search for warmth

Rain, of course it was raining, his life was one dark shadow. He walked the road less taken, followed, no, stalked by some pitiful rain cloud. It waited for him to smile, then opened up its hollow core and dumped pain and suffering down upon his head. As if he hadn't dealt with enough. He was too hurt to even manage anger, too dumbfounded to realize where he was or where he had been going. His body ached, mind plagued with images of some poor deformed soul, some creature who's life he had just ended. Now he was left with nothing more then a guilty conscience and a desperate need for the philosophers stone.

"Why can't things ever work out the way I want them too…?" Ed asked the sky, his head tilting back as waves of rain droplets slid over his forehead, lost amidst a forest of golden blond tresses. "Why can't it all just stop…" came an exasperated moan. The world was spinning too fast it seemed. His eyes cast upon the sky it felt as if he could feel it turn upon its axis and it was making him feel disgustingly small.

No one cared anymore, no one cared ever, who was he kidding!

Colonel Mustang the heartless bastard didn't care that he had sent Ed into the vipers den. He didn't care that that his heart was breaking, he didn't care; he just didn't care!  
God, all Edward wanted to do was scream to the devil in the depths of hell. His body ached all over. Even the automail seemed painfully heavy. His whole body dragging beneath the weight of a water logged coat which clung to his lithe frame. All he wanted was someone to wrap their arms around him, shadow the cold and darkness with a blanket of warmth. Was there anyone out there who cared enough to protect his soul from the madness of growing up?

Maybe that was the problem; he was still so very much a child, as much as he'd hated to admit it. Maybe it was the childish aspirations of being mature, of saving lives that made all this hurt so much more. He'd been naively hoping on some ghost of a prayer that the world wasn't as dark and dismal as the adults had made it out to be. That alchemists didn't use their gift to hurt others, that people didn't actually want to hurt one another and it was all just some big misunderstanding. How could life get so twisted?

Quietly Ed managed on. His footsteps came through the silence in an echo of hollow sounds. It was comforting to know he was still human, despite the ghostly air which lingered upon every movement he made. He didn't feel alive anymore; he was just a husk, a shell of a human wandering the earth with no real purpose.

Purpose had been lost somewhere between his return to central and his meeting with Mustang, now left a being so lost that color was confusing. Within his narrow line of view, nothing more then black and white made sense when the entire world was grey.

"You look lost…"

Edward turned upon his heel as he found himself at the gaping mouth of a dark alleyway.

She led him away from the cold, away from the hurt, her hands warm as she groped and grabbed in a maddening attempt to free him from all restraints. She was soft, careful in her caresses, her mature hold upon him choking the air from his lungs.

This had been what he'd wanted though, wasn't it? He wanted someone to place their arms around him, hold him tight to their chest.

Her heart beat echoed within his ear as she drew his cheek against her rain kissed chest. His soft warm flesh bitten bitterly by the sting of cold which enveloped her body, how could she stand it? How could she be so cold and not care?

Edward hated feeling cold, he hated the feeling of bitterness it left him with. Like his life-force was being stolen away, stripped from his body. It was like death, tormenting him with its knowing presence, like being rapped of all that made you human; possessed by some asinine desire to eliminate your own existence.

Cold reminded him of death, a creature he tempted far too continue such childish games.

Why then was her touch, so warm when the emotion within her heart had all but died out. Ed felt it, her heart beat against his cheek, the steady thump taunting him. She was calm, collected, knew what she was doing, and he was her pathetic wanton sheep. She promised to make him feel and he gladly accepted, only a mere idea of what was to follow flickering beneath juvenile fantasies.

She'd acted quickly; he felt the solid form of a mattress pressed against the back of his knees. Where they were was beyond his recollection, but it didn't matter. He was placed upon his backside in a matter of minutes, his body pressed against the pliant mattress of what he now knew to be her bed. The surface smelt of jasmine and rose, a scent capturing his senses as his head rocked to the side, cheek pressed against the silken fabric of her bed cover.

She stood over him a moment, wiggling about, gone from his line of vision as the cold from the outside melted within his stomach, or at least, what he thought was his stomach. Her fingertips ghosted over his thighs, delicately stroking down upon his knee through the damp leather which clung to his body, suffocating something within his lower region.

"My dear, we need to get you out of these clothes and warmed up," It felt as if it were his first time really hearing her voice, soft and sickeningly sweet as she toyed with the buttons and loops of his belt. Her finger tips were warm again, prying away the thick leather which kept his pants firmly secure at his hip. He'd often had trouble managing passed his thighs when wet, but his lower half felt increasingly bare in a matter of moments. Warm air bit at his calves, her fingertips stroking gently up the backs of his legs, around and up the side of his thighs, avoiding the area of his body he seemed to want her attention on the most.

A breath hitched within his throat as manicured nails scratched up his sides, trailing away beneath his shirt. The wet material, with help from him, became discarded on the floor in a matter of seconds, leaving Edward in nothing more then a damp pair of powder blue boxers.

He wasn't sure how this was supposed to get him warm again. His skin had been coated in dampness, hair sticking on end despite the warm air about the room. If anything he was colder now then he had been before.

Suddenly, the mattress gave way beneath the weight of another body. His attention fell to her form looming over him, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his hip. Somewhere between their arrival and his undressing, she had managed out of her street clothes and into something that appeared almost pointless in its transparent appearance. Ed watched in amazement, his eyes lining every aspect of her body, slipping down from the curves of her neck to where her torso and arm met. It was beautifully human, pale flesh meeting pale flesh, no steel bolts or metal barings, plates or grease, just human flesh. As his eyes continued on the black lining of her undergarments peeked his curiosity causing a stir of interest from somewhere hidden beneath the only article of clothing he had left. Her shape was perfect, slow dipping curves, thin taut waist compelling Edward to place his hands upon it, oh he wanted to touch.

She giggled as he did so, her fingertips setting to work, tracing soft designs against his torso. "You've never done this before…" she observed softly, resting her bottom atop Ed's thighs, her warmth slowly engulfing his lower region.

The boy merely blushed and nodded his head. He tried to relax but found himself lost beneath the weight and warmth her body had to offer. He could only imagine the ways in which this whole ordeal would work out. She could laugh at him, push him aside and withhold the warmth he needed so desperately. She could cling to him, her need as desperate as his, though the likeliness of a grown woman actually needing him seemed quite far fetched. Maybe she'd take pity, ease him into this, allow him to bask in the warmth of her body, let him cling and cry if he needed. Maybe she'd be his salvation in the wake of all the darkness.

"It's ok…" her breathing quite and even as his chest began to heave with strenuous breath. Was he really ready for this?

It was hardly the time to second guess himself, hardly the time to back out of this now. She was a top him, perched, a bird of prey watching as her catch squirmed beneath her deathly ministrations. Nothing but the soft whisper of the sheets beneath him made him full aware how trapped he was. How desperate he was to do something, to move, to touch… He needed to do something otherwise he was libel to loose his mind.

Carefully his hand rose from her side, slipping up and over the expanse of her flat tummy. A curious and strained motion which elicited a sly grin from his partner in crime, "No, here…" she whispered softly, her fingers grabbing for his, leading them far from the path in which they traveled. He felt her need as she tugged on his arm, ignoring the automail appendages as she forced his fingers into the damp patch between her legs. "See..." she let out a breathy whisper, leaving his fingers to figure out what it was they were supposed to do as she stalked up and over him. Her hips raised some, allowing a cool burst of air to gust passed his growing erection housed beneath painfully damp boxers. He felt her chest graze against his as her lips caught a small area of flesh just proximal to his collarbone.

"I bet you're sensitive there too…" she whispered softly, her hands working beyond his vision to cup the base of his semi hardened cock, her fingertips working gently against the flesh beneath.

It felt strange; her hand quickly moving passed the barrier of protection that, that thin cloth had provided him. She was slow and soft in her movements, thumb brushing over the engorged head before she worked on his shaft, quietly pumping with the faintest twist of her wrist.

God it felt strange, but good, his own hands following suit, slipping passed the fabric which now seemed pointless in its dampened state to the slick wet flesh beneath. It took everything within him not to turn up his nose, the feeling of warm moisture enveloping his fingers as he ran his index along the crease he had discovered. It was gross, sloppy, like being licked by a dogs tongue. But she whimpered, her breath against his neck, lips trailing soft butterfly kisses up and along his jaw line. "Put them in…" she moaned, capturing his lips before he could so much as protest.

Hadn't warmth been what he had desired, wasn't this another form of warmth? Anything was better then feeling cold again, anything was better then the bitter loneliness which stood outside the door waiting for him with open arms, even this…

Carefully, allowing his fingers to explore the warmth between her legs, cataloging the vast difference his own sex, Edward allowed a single finger to breach the barrier. Warm flesh surrounded him, soft moist walls so different from anything he'd ever felt in his life.

"More, more…" she seemed to moan breaking the contact their lips had made. He couldn't move but for the strained flexion of his wrist and fingers, delving two more fingers deep into her tunnel of moist flesh.

She seemed to enjoy it, wriggling around over top of him, pressing her thumb against the head of his cock as she ground her hips down against his hand. He felt the warmth breach down onto his knuckle, threatening his whole hand as he gasped in shock and confusion.

Suddenly something felt wet, something of his as her fingers began to massage the slick substance all over his length. He opened his mouth to question, but was silenced as her tongue invaded his mouth, robbing him of speech. She seemed to grow impatient, almost rough as Ed gasped and stifled a moan, forcing their lips apart. The more she moved, the more he hated it. The more disgusted with himself he felt.

His mind wandered back to when he was a child, so very, very young. He could remember, late one night, woken from a nightmare, he tiptoed to his parent's room where he stumbled upon the most awkward display of love he had ever seen. His father seemed to smother his mother, his mouth upon hers as his arms drew her close. He could barely make out the movements beneath half discarded sheets, but they seemed to be connected in some odd display of affection. As Edward grew older, fascinated by the sounds his mother had made, the way in which pain looked to become enjoyable, he learned of sex and such other acts of intimacy.

When his mother was sad, he wondered if it was because his father's body would no longer connect with hers. He wondered how someone so alone could feel that way again; if she'd find someone else to hurt her so much she enjoyed it.

This feeling wasn't pain though, it wasn't pleasure either. It was awkward and strange. He felt the gentle touch become an almost tugging. He felt the burn of her fist wrapped around his cock almost too much to bear.

Then she was moving again. Her hips shifted, drawing away from the young mans fingers. Edward was left at a loss for what to do, the wetness almost cold around his now slimy digits as his hand lie against the bed sheets. She was determined in her motions, sifting her weigh into a seated and upright position, hovering over Ed's weeping erection. Suddenly, the same warmth which invaded his hand was now focused solely upon his lower region. Ed's eyes burst open, when he had closed then he wasn't sure, and what he saw caused his heart to race. There she was, this women of whom he'd known no more then hours, was lowering herself onto his traitorous penis. She steadied the base with one hand, holding to the side sex soaked panties with the other. She wasn't even bothering to take off the rest of her clothes.

Where was the warmth?

His pelvis ached as that same moist cavern of flesh he had felt around his fingers swallowed him whole. She didn't ease him into it either. The tip slipped through and then it was all over. She thrust herself don upon him, causing the poor boy to buck and cry out. His head pressed back against rose scented pillows hair splayed out in a disheveled braid as he groped pathetically at the sheets.

Oh gods, he didn't want this, he didn't want this at all, this warmth was the devil, it was burning, it was hell on earth. Slowly she began to rock her hips, moving around in a gyrating motion at first. God she had to stop. His stomach burned, a systemic numbness taking control. This needed to stop. He wanted to scream but his vocal cords seemed to constrict in protest. Even the slightest breath hurt, dragging in through his lungs like razorblades.

Maybe if he just closed his eyes real tight and waited for it to be over, he would survive this barbaric display of animal need. Maybe if he just let her finish… but no…

His traitorous body thrust forwards burying himself deep within her as she began to bob, bouncing recklessly a top him. The burning in his stomach grew worse and worse as his body began to act on its own. Perspiration glistened upon his forehead and across his chest as he tossed his head to the side, pressing his cheek flat against the sheets. Something was building up deep within, something was boiling threatening to burst through and break him. He didn't want this, to break meant that this was enjoyable on some scale of the word, and it wasn't. Still his body arched in a perfect arc, hips pressing his erected length deep within the devils chasm.

His mind slipped off towards other things, hoping to suffocate the throbbing ache. Mustang, he did this all the time, didn't he? Mustang, was he this sort of pussy? Did he want to cry every time a woman rode him? Or was he more like Edward's father? Somehow the thoughts seemed to calm him, arousing something deep within the pit of his stomach all the same. As he rocked, Edward pictured Roy pleasuring a woman, a woman who looked oddly like his mother. Roy's fluid movements, the way his arms wrapped around her body, holding her close against his strong comforting chest. The women slowly became a blonde haired male, Roy's body attached to the others in a manner in which Edward couldn't seem to wrap his mind around.   
Behind veiled eyes he could see Roy slowly thrusting his hips, pounding his length deep into the body of his young subordinate. Was he fantasizing about the Colonel taking him as a lover?

Somehow the thought was a little more pleasing, a little more… warm.

Gods that was what he wanted, he wanted that warmth, the tender loving warmth that Edward was so sure the Colonel would exude. It didn't matter the pain, the pitiful looks the Flame Alchemist gave him, or how insanely angry Edward might have been with the man, nothing was worse then this. Ed was in over his head and the waves were never ending. He gasped for air, his tummy tight, muscles straining as he felt himself peeking. He knew what this was like; he was only human after all. This time however felt dirty and wrong. It was cold, heartless, nothing like he had expected it to be. Nothing at all...

"Fuck…" he managed to cry out, fingers tearing at the sheets beneath them. She hadn't even the decency to cover their naked bodies. Edward felt exposed, raw, as if he had were standing naked at the gate preying for his little brothers body back. The torment was unrelenting and the release even worse.

It was happening before his mind could even grasp the concept, _don't do it, don't do it…_ his mind pleaded, but it was far too late, "Nnngh R.. Roy…" And in that moment everything stopped. He felt as though his heart were exploding, his hips arced off the bed, eyes closed so tight he thought he might live through eternal darkness. It was sick, but in a way made him whole. It was over, she wasn't moving…

"Did…" No, but she was talking, her voice constricted though a mixture of disbelief and horror, "Did you just say Roy?" She barked, pulling herself off his body with a deafening squelch noise.

Ed was quickly becoming aware of what had happened. His clothes were tossed upon his sorely naked form but he was free. He wanted to talk, but even opening his eyes grew difficult. He didn't want to move when all he wanted to do was run. She was stalking him again, body all around him, toying with his desperation.

"You like cock… you're a little street faggot!" she was screaming now as Edward scrambled to pull on his clothes, leaving his boxers discarded where ever they had fallen. The cool leather stuck to his calves as he forced it up and over his skinny legs. His automail creaking and groaning as he forced himself to stand, terrified to dare look her in the eye. "Great... I should have known better then to pick up the street runt…"  
Ed hadn't even the energy to protest the height implication. Instead he drew himself upright, tucking himself safely away within his pants before shouldering the black shirt he had been wearing. "Sorry…" Seemed the only word his mouth would utter, everything else, every explanation, every plea was lost with his dignity.

"Don't say another fucking world, just get out…" again she was screaming, this time however, she was covering herself up with a long and shabby looking robe. Reality seemed to permeate the lust driven fantasy Edward had been living, the room now dirty and run down. He recognized it as one of many downtown hostel rooms where those of poorer street value took up homage.

As he turned to leave she was muttering something about bratty children, dirty little street waifs. Words he didn't care to hear but probably deserved all the same. He was a young man with no apparent home; why else would he have been wandering near the alleyway that night?

His hand had been on the door when she called, "OH and don't forget this…" his body pivoting on the spot just in time to see his State Alchmist's watch thrown viciously at his head. The metal struck the door with an unearthly red glow as the timepiece fell open and Edward was forced to watch the hands of time tick slowly by. His own childish words of reminder staring him back in the face. For some reason, it only furthered the embarrassment, only brought images of those exotic ebony eyes and mussed up black hair… Roy Mustang would have a field day if he ever found out about this. Edward Elric was a shameful man, he was a horrible human being… he was a terrified little boy.

"Thank you…" He managed to mutter, but she had probably realized then who he was, her hand covering her mouth, "I actually need that…." And he was bent low, drawing the object closed to tuck it safely in his pocket. "sorry again…" Edward managed in a voice that was small, even for him, before disappearing out the door and into a rainy street where he again was left to sear for warmth. Warmth he knew he didn't deserve… the world had made that abundantly clear.


End file.
